


Visiting Hours: The Catra Story

by crow_017



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner's A+ Parenting, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crow_017/pseuds/crow_017
Summary: Catra is Force Captain and Shadow Weaver is in the Froght Zone's holding cell. She can finally obtain her answers here.
Relationships: Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Visiting Hours: The Catra Story

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy everyone, just a short trigger warning here for verbal abuse, mentions of self harm, emotional manipulation, and past mentions of child abuse Catra has went through. I hope you enjoy it!

It was easy to get lost in the corridors if you didn’t know where to go, since all of the hallways look the same. Catra knew where she was going though, she knew this place like the back of her hand; and she knew where she was going. She holds a tray with slop tossed on the middle of the tray with a plastic cup full of water. Catra always wonders what was in it, so maybe it was her golden opportunity to ask her favorite prisoner. She was once an officer for the Horde and knew what came in and out of the Fright Zone, after all. 

The halls were filled with strobe green lights and dull, grey walls that were reminiscent of the interior of a robot; the excessive industrialism, deep hums coming from machinery, and smoke that pollutes the air was normal for those who barely see the outside world. 

It reminded Catra of a book she read in her spare time;  _ “...When God made man the devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything— make a machine and a machine to make the machine, and evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it.”  _ It reminds her of how the book was right about one thing, that the ends of eras usually end with blood being spilled. As industrialism took over the ancient west, industrialism took over kingdoms and nature that once ruled Etheria. 

She knew she was doing wrong, but she knew that she wasn’t on the wrong side of history. Eras of kingdoms and even nature are crumbling from the root if they weren’t being torn down by the Horde, and it was going to fall towards the Fright Zone. She knew that Brightmoon would soon fall and become another trade station, Selineas was going to crumble and become the docks for trade. Catra would rather be wrong than dead right, but it seems like it’s damned if you do and damned if you don’t with the rank of Force Captain. 

Her badge shines proudly on her left chest, her heterochromatic eyes were sunken in from the lack of sleep— although she knew that would come with the territory of her new rank. Sweatbands covered both her wrists, although she never really told anyone why she wore them. 

The Force Captain arrives at the holding cell and walks with a strut, hiding how tired she is. She doesn’t want to show weakness. The holding cell was like any other hallway except it wasn’t desolate, lifeless, and empty. The strobe lights were a bit dimmer, but not by much. Nobody really knew if it was intentional because of the prisoners or it was just one of the few things that needed to be worked on in the Fright Zone. Entrapta could make a better guess than Catra, Scorpia, Lonnie, Kyle, or Rogelio. 

“Knock, knock, Shadow Weaver…” Catra says with a sarcastic yet sing-songy tune. “We got your slop for the day. Hopefully, you’re enjoying your time in the holding cell—” she types in the passcode and the door opens. “—I know I’m enjoying it.” 

“Still walking around with that smug attitude of yours, I see.” The prisoner ignores Catra’s stare.

“Oops,” She drops the tray on the floor intentionally, watching it splatter on the floor. “I just spilled your one and only meal. Well, there’s the five second rule.” She chuckles, leaning against the wall watching her prisoner wilt on the floor, chained to the wall. Shadow Weaver helplessly looks over at Catra, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. Catra craved for the day when Shadow Weaver would be under her mercy, she just didn’t know it would happen now. 

“What’re you doing here?” Shadow Weaver asks her. The witch’s hair is stringy and thin, reminiscent of her figure. Her fingers are skinny and pale, and her cloak started to be one size too large for her due to her only eating one meal for one month in her capture. “Did you come to gloat, child? I know you didn’t come just to feed me. Well… Not anymore, I suppose.” She sighs. 

“As much as I’d love to see my  _ motherly figure _ —” she says with a bite. “—I came to ask a few questions.” Catra steps closer towards Shadow Weaver with a grin. 

“And if I choose not to answer...?” Shadow Weaver asks her. 

“I think you know prisoner protocol in the Fright Zone,” Catra flexes her claws and invades Shadow Weaver’s personal space. “It’s Force Captain’s discretion for torturing prisoners.” 

“You’re half correct.” Shadow Weaver replies. “As long as you don’t torture them to a point where they require intensive care or to the point of death, of course.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the rule.” Catra murmurs. “I know that you know Hordak usually doesn’t care about if the prisoners die or not. I can make it look like you tried to escape; or one day you decided that you couldn’t take not being Lord Hordak’s high ranking officer anymore, so you used that knife over there to take your own life. Aww… So sad,” she fakes a frown after pointing towards the dirty and worn silverware on the tray. “Too bad I would have spotted you fifteen minutes after you did it.” 

“...I don’t have much choice.” The witch sighs. “My power is gone and you’re not the one in chains,” she hangs her head in defeat. She was right. The chains were strong and held an electric charge, whoever tampered with it would instantly regret it if they didn’t know what they were doing. She was getting weaker and weaker without her magic, and she knew it. She had to do something if she didn’t want to die a slow death in the holding cell, and fast. Catra wasn’t an old cat though, she knew Shadow Weaver’s old tricks… At least, she thinks she does. 

“Glad we understand each other, although I wouldn’t mind if you took the hard way.” Catra gets away from the wall and starts pacing back and forth slowly, not taking her gaze away from her jailbird. “Well, first things first… What’s your opinion? On the Horde and the Rebellion, I mean.” She asks first.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” the witch shook her head.

“With everything going on, who do you think is gonna win?” She asks Shadow Weaver. 

“With She-Ra as their ace up the Rebellion’s sleeve, there’s a winning chance for them. In all honesty… I have my bets on Adora and Brightmoon,” she answers. “Actually, I’m rooting for them.” The witch chuckles. 

“Why? You were Team Horde a month ago for as long as we’ve been here. Oh, wait… Is it because you’re mad that Lord Hordak doesn’t like you anymore, so he stripped you of your powers and put you in here?” Catra scoffs. “Don’t play the good guy, we both know that you aren’t.” 

“I told you my opinion, just like you asked.” Shadow Weaver says monotonously, not dignifying Catra’s biting words a response although she knew it was true. She played sides to whoever put her in the best situation. It was how she joined the Horde when she took on the name “Light Spinner” instead of the darker alias that she dons today. 

“I  _ know  _ that the Horde’s gonna win. We got what they don’t, and that’s firepower, technology, and more force captains than princesses.” She spreads her arms wide in the claustrophobic room. “We have The Fright Zone and multiple bases and trade posts, and they have  _ me.  _ The eras of ‘princesses,’ forests, kingdoms… All that bullshit. That era will  _ end  _ with war and will rise to something new like  _ this. _ ” She pats her hand on the walls made of metal and internal wiring. “With guns instead of sticks, rocks, and She-Ra swords. With mechs instead of horses. The war will be over, since there’s no more enemies in our way.” Shadow Weaver starts to chuckle, then begins to laugh maniacally. It sends chills down Catra’s spine. “What’s so funny?” 

“You’re more foolish than I thought,” Shadow Weaver growled. “War was always  _ here,  _ Catra. Before there were signs of life, war was there. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate power.” She continues on. “We’re still in the primitive stage of our evolution, and we will  _ never  _ change. No matter how much technology we have or what civilization we have… War is what drives us. We strive to conquer, my child.” She sighs. “War is the ultimate solution to two or more powerful conflicting wills, and the one who emerges victorious are the ones that have proven their point.”

“But what about shitty people that’re morally wrong?” Catra refutes. 

“‘Morals?’ It is war, morals don’t exist. I believe you as a Horde Soldier should know that by now…” She scoffs. “It’s whoever is stronger of the two wills, after all. Lord Hordak was stronger in his will, and emerged victorious in many battles. Now though, with Adora’s strong will and the power she has behind it… She will turn the tides. I’m simply siding with the victor, is all.”

“You’ve lost your marbles,” Catra hisses. “Then again, I don’t think you’ve had ‘em in the first place…”

“What’s your next question?” Shadow Weaver asks, ignoring her insults. 

“Well… Just…” Catra’s mouth freezes mid-sentence, and her prideful aura suddenly diminishes. "Just…" 

“‘Just’ what?” Shadow Weaver grows impatient. 

“J-Just… Why were you such a bitch to me?”

“...That’s a ridiculous question,” the witch replies crossly. 

“A ridiculous question that you have to answer,” Catra hisses back with a bite. Shadow Weaver only groans, not saying anything for a few brief seconds. “I don’t have time for awkward silence,” Catra stops pacing and steps towards her threateningly. 

“...It’s hard to explain in a literal fashion.” Shadow Weaver mumbles. “Maybe a parable will give you an idea. Imagine a young child that runs towards a large flame, a furnace or something like that. The child wants to touch it, not knowing the consequences of being burnt. The parent grabs for the young one’s arm and yanks them away from it. They start crying because you were a bit harsh, and you hurt their arm,” she continues with her parable. “But being receiving minor injuries is much better than being burnt, or  _ worse _ .” 

“Aw, you probably tell that to yourself so you can sleep at night. I got more than just ‘minor injuries,’” Catra says with apathy. “Before  _ she  _ left, you were the very opposite with  _ her _ …” She mumbles. “You let her off with a warning and then shocked me into submission. So much for ‘grabbing  _ her  _ by the arm—’”

“ _ And look at what happened, _ ” Shadow Weaver roars. “She  _ left  _ us. She left  _ me. _ I'm making sure you don't repeat the same mistakes as Adora, or even I did; even though  _ you're  _ the reason why she left…" The witch had something she uses if she was powerless, and that is her words. She understands that words can make and break bonds, declare wars, and be weapons more effective than Adora's sword, giant eight foot sword lady form aside. "Honestly, she was right to leave this gods-forsaken place."

"It is my fault, but…" Catra hangs her head. 

Shadow Weaver draws a deep breath, looking towards Catra who starts shaking like a leaf. "I want you to be  _ better.  _ The reason why I was tougher on you was because I saw me in you, dear child. You are a soldier, and I want to see you  _ stronger. _ " Catra buckles down on her knees and starts to stutter after this. 

"Y-You do…? You think I can be strong?" She asks. 

"Of course. I have done this because I  _ love  _ you." Shadow Weaver's deep voice turns almost motherly, something Catra never heard in her life. Shadow Weaver reaches her hand out and puts her palm on her cheek, caressing the stray cat's face. Catra purrs as her eyes start to water, out of both happiness and melancholy. Shadow Weaver's face stays the same underneath the mask, indifferent and plotting her escape. "Now… I have one question for you." She asks. 

"What's that?" She tilts her head. 

"You still have a lot to learn, and you're unfortunately still weaker than you can be." The witch pulls her hand back slowly. 

"W-What?  _ Why _ ?" Catra asks. 

"We both know what's underneath those little bracelets of yours. You're not fooling anyone with those." She answers flatly. Catra pulls her hands back and places them on her sides. 

"How long did you know—" 

"A very long time," Shadow Weaver replies. "And I've said nothing because I thought you would say something." 

"I'm sorry, I just— I just…" Catra's heart starts pounding and her stomach starts churning. 

"What you do is an act of  _ cowardice, _ " the witch barks. "Only a coward, a  _ freak  _ would do that and attempt to seek  _ death. _ " Shadow Weaver's motherly tone doesn't last long. "It's not something a soldier or a warrior would do." 

"Maybe you're right," Catra interrupts, getting up on her feet. "I  _ am  _ weak." 

"Where are you going?" Shadow Weaver asks. 

"...Anywhere but here." She locks the holding cell behind her, leaving Shadow Weaver alone once more. 

"Just like Adora, always  _ leaving… _ " The Witch mumbles under her breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> I made heavy reference to a book I've been reading for some time now called Blood Meridian (Or The Evening Redness in the West). I found the antagonist to be quite an interesting character due to his philosophy, so I wanted to apply it here to Shadow Weaver's character. If you liked this work or have any suggestions, please comment and give me your thoughts! I'd love to hear them.


End file.
